Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(16)

It’s fun and intense and I think we’re both realizing for the first time that we get to do this together all the time. Write songs, kiss, make love, be inspired to write more songs.

Ridge kisses me. “This is my new favorite song.”

“Mine, too.”

He slides both hands to my cheeks and bites his lip for a second. Then he clears his throat. “With you and me…all I need…is more of the same.”

Oh, my God. He’s singing. Ridge Lawson is serenading me. And it’s terrible because he’s so out of tune, but a tear falls from my eye because it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed or heard or felt.

He wipes my tear away with his thumb and smiles. “That bad, huh?”

I laugh and shake my head, and then I kiss him harder than I’ve ever kissed him because there is no way I can verbally express my love for him right now. Instead, I love him silently. He doesn’t even break the kiss when he reaches behind him and turns off the lamp. He pulls the covers over us and then tucks my head under his chin as he wraps himself around me.

Neither of us says I love you before we fall asleep.

Sometimes two people share a silent moment that feels so deep and so powerful, a simple phrase such as I love you risks losing all prior meaning if spoken aloud.





I’ve only taken three bites of my burger, but I push the plate away from me and lean back. “I can’t finish this,” I mutter, letting my head fall back against the booth. “I’m sorry.”

Jake laughs. “You jumped out of an airplane for the first time ever and then drove a car in circles for an hour straight. I’m surprised you’re able to eat anything at all.”

He says this with an empty plate sitting in front of him while scarfing down a milkshake. I guess when you’re used to jumping out of planes and driving fast cars, the adrenaline doesn’t jack with your equilibrium to the point that you feel like the world is spinning inside your stomach.

“It was fun, though,” I say with a smile. “It’s not every day I cross two things off my bucket list.”

He scoots both of our plates to the edge of the table and leans forward. “What else is on your bucket list?”

“Vegas. The Northern Lights. Paris. The usual.” I fail to tell him that he’s who I hope will be number eight on my list. We’ve had so much fun tonight, I want to do it again. But I also don’t, simply because we had so much fun tonight. I’ve spent the entirety of my adulthood in a relationship. I don’t want that again. Even if he is too good to be true. “Why are you single?” I ask him.

He rolls his eyes like the question embarrasses him. He pulls his glass of water in front of him, sipping from it in order to avoid answering it for a few seconds longer. When he lets the straw fall away from his lips, he shrugs. “I’m usually not.”

I laugh. That’s expected, I suppose. A sky-diving, Tesla-driving, good-looking cardiologist doesn’t sit home every Friday night. “Are you a serial dater?”

He shakes his head. “The opposite, actually. I just got out of a relationship. A really long relationship.”

I didn’t expect that answer. “How long did you date her?”

“Twelve years.”

I sputter a cough. “Twelve years? How old are you?”

“Twenty-nine. Started dating her in high school.”

“Can I ask what ended it? Or do you want to change the subject?”

Jake shakes his head. “I don’t mind talking about it. I moved out about six months ago. We were engaged, actually. I proposed four years ago. We never got around to planning the wedding because we were waiting until we finished our residencies.”

“She’s a doctor, too?”

“Oncologist.”

Jeez. I suddenly feel so…young. I just barely finished my thesis, and here he is with an ex-fiancée who went through medical school with him and saves lives. I pull my drink to my lips and take a sip, attempting to wash down all my insecurities.

“Was it a mutual breakup?” I ask him.

He looks down at his hands briefly. A flash of guilt takes over his expression before he responds. “Not really. I realized about twelve years too late that I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with her. I know that sounds bad after being with her for so long. But for some reason, choosing to spend the rest of my life with her was a lot easier than breaking up with her.”

Why am I feeling everything he’s saying? I find myself wanting to raise my arm and say, “Amen,” like I’m in church. “I can absolutely relate to what a hard decision that must have been.”

Jake leans forward, folding his arms on the table. He tilts his head in thought for a moment, then says, “I had a moment before I ended it. I remember asking myself what I would regret more. Ending something that was good so I didn’t end up with regrets? Or spending the rest of my life regretting that I didn’t have the courage to end something simply because I was afraid of regret? Either choice would have left me with some form of regret, so I chose to end it. And it was hard. But I’d rather regret ending something good than be what prevents her from finding something great.”

I stare at him a moment, but I have to break my stare because I’m starting to have that feeling again. That I want him to be more than a one-night stand.